Let me ask you something, and be completely honest with me. I won’t even get mad.
The responsible thing would have been to not go to the Sawyer mansion that night, right?
Damn it. I knew better than this. I should have listened to you.
Do you see that girl sitting in her car in the valet drive of their mansion? The one parked next between the neon green Ducati and black Ford Raptor? The one nervously chewing on her already short orange nails?
That’s me and I’m thinking this is a bad idea. The last party I attended at the Sawyer mansion was when I was seventeen after the X Games, where at just seventeen years old himself, Tiller had won a gold medal. That’s the night I ended up completely naked in the hot tub with Tiller. I almost had sex with him, but my insecurities, and the fact that there were over a hundred people around us, weighed on me and I told him no. We did other things, and he got off that night for sure, but even wasted, Tiller understood the meaning of no and left anything we did up to me.
“I can do this,” I tell myself when I see Tiller standing in the driveway, his shoulder in a sling, and wearing board shorts. That’s all. They land so deliciously low on his hips that heat courses through my center.
Nobody should look that good.
You’re wondering where River is, right? Don’t worry. She’s not with me.
Tracy, who’d been helping me at the event tonight took her home. Said after the date disaster, I deserved a second chance at freedom for a night. And if I was with Tiller, there’d be no chance of him ruining the night, right?
Hardly. I feel so guilty for leaving her again that I’m tempted to leave.
Tiller, impatiently waiting on the porch, gives me a nod and screams, “Get in here!”
With a deep breath of preparation, I exit my car and lock it. Roan, Tiller’s older brother, is here tonight and is known for getting drunk and stealing cars for joyrides. He once “borrowed” my car and I found it in Los Angles at a strip club two days later. Don’t ever leave your keys visible either. He’ll find them.
The walk to the front of the house is done on shaky legs and me fidgeting with my lilac, a few shades lighter than my hair, sundress to smooth out the wrinkles. The warm summer Southern California night hits my face, along with the distant stench of burning wood from the wildfires. My eyes burn and the sky gives off a hazy gray appearance.
Tiller stands before me, his breathing heavy, eyes lazy-lidded. “Took you long enough.” I notice a beer bottle in the hand that’s not bandaged up.
“Should you be drinking with pain pills?”
“No, but when has that ever stopped me?” He slings his good arm around my shoulder and leads me in the house.
I hand my keys to Scarlet. For good reason, she’s collecting them at the front door.
I’ve met Scarlet a few times, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with her. She’s got this wild mess of blonde curls that do their own thing and match her personality perfectly. And though I’ve only met her a few times, I can tell I love her spirit already.
Her bright sky-blue eyes land on my face, and I know she’s smiling before my eyes even land on her full lips. “You’re Amberly Johnson, right?”
I nod, and she seems excited, like I’ve told her she’s won the lottery. “Well shit, girl. It’s nice to meet the only chick Tiller’s ever liked.”
Tiller leans into her, but never removes his arm from around my shoulder and he brushes his cheek against Scarlet, like a cat does when it rubs up against your leg. “That’s not true. I like you, Northwest.”
One minute he’s charming and the next you want to drown him.
“You gonna share?” Roan asks, winking at me as he leans casually into the door frame.
Tiller shoves Roan away from me. “Fuck your bad vibes, bro.”
Roan laughs. “Fair is fair, bro.”
These two have a history of hostility. I’ve never known a time when Roan and Tiller were nice to each other. Roan almost drowned in the pool out back once and Tiller did nothing to help him. To this day, Tiller claims he didn’t realize he wasn’t joking, but when the paramedics carted Roan away and he had to spend a few nights in the hospital, Tiller never went and saw him.
“Why do you hate him so much?” I ask Tiller.
He shrugs. “Never said I hated him.” And then he whispers in my ear, keeping his eyes locked on his brother, “I fucked his girl and he’s pissed about it.”
I’m not at all surprised, and though the thought of him with someone else sends a pang of sadness to my heart, I know Tiller has been around. “You’re hard to swallow at times.”
Scarlet rolls her eyes. She knows exactly where Tiller’s going with this one when he chuckles and gives me that dirty smirk he’s so damn good at. “If you’re good at swallowing, I got a mouthful for you.”
“Stop that.” I slap at him, trying to wiggle my way away from him and to the beer Scarlet hands me. I’ve never been much of a hard alcohol girl. I prefer beer over anything else. “What’s gotten into you?”
He pushes my hair aside and kisses my neck. “I have two emotions. Angry and horny. Oh, and batshit crazy. Pick one.”
Taking notice in the now black barrel he has in his hand, I say, “I think you’re batshit crazy at the moment.”
He slings his arm around me. “I wouldn’t disagree.”
I can tell you a lot about that night, and most of it happens on my own free will, but somehow, after three beers, and a few pulls from the half-empty fifth of Jameson Black Barrel, I find myself outside on the pool deck with Tiller, and I’m on his lap facing him. Do you see us there? We’re surrounded by probably fifty people, most of which I don’t know and neither does Tiller. Even if he did, he wouldn’t know it now because I’m the only one capturing his attention.
My tired eyes drift around the party over his shoulder. Their security guards, Brad and Zack, stand perched near the pool, watching everyone, but neither participating.
Over the insane stereo system, “Turn Down for What” by DJ Snake blares, thumping with the beat of my steady pulse.
“Dance for me,” Tiller tells me, laying his head back against the chair.
I do, but my eyes keep moving to beside us where Roan is standing with a girl I know he has history with. Ophelia Hadley. Same girl Tiller slept with. Roan takes her hand, leading her away from the crowd who refuse to give them privacy.
Gah, why can’t I stop my mind? Anxiety gnaws at my chest. It’s all around me. Reminders of his lifestyle, and that I’m just a girl he messes around with. If I got up and left right now, would he care?
“Goddamn,” he breathes, kissing and biting at the side of my neck. “I can feel the heat of your pussy through my fucking shorts. Let me fuck you. Please?”
I don’t answer, because he knows I’m not giving in like this. He pulls his mouth to mine, and we’re locked in a kiss. It’s enough that my attention moves to him and only him. His mouth covers mine with a hunger that doesn’t hold back. He never does, and it always sends an intoxicating sensation through my body I crave long after his mouth parts from mine.
“Goddamn it.” He growls out a breath, pulling his mouth from mine. He sounds frustrated, shifting, slouching, and grinding his erection into my center. Tightening his grip on my hip, he forces me into the lift of his hips, dragging me over the bulge. He doesn’t seem to care people are all around us, but then again, when I was seventeen and he came on my bare breasts with three of his friends watching, I don’t think he cared then, either. The thought, the memory of him doing those things to me, it adds to what’s between us now. A connection neither of us can explain.
Tingles shoot through my entire body, and I’m close to an orgasm just off the kiss and the friction of his hardness between my legs. With him shirtless, I’m careful of his arm in the sling, and I want to wrap my arms around his neck to feel his hot skin on mine, but I can’t.
To my left, I notice people watching us, while others don’t seem to mind. Like Shade and Scarlet. They’re in the hot tub. Her tops off and he’s sucking on her tits. Those are just the kind of things that happen at the parties here and nobody’s the wiser. They just let it happen.
Tiller’s breath catches, and he halts my hips, and I swear his dick twitches, pulsing like he’s coming. “Fuck, stop for a second.” His stomach tightens, his head resting back on the chair we’re in. I touch my fingertips to his panther tattoo on his pec, outlining it with the pad of my index finger.
He swallows. “You gotta get up for a second or I’m gonna blow it.”
I’m assuming he means come in his shorts, but I’m not sure. The only sexual experiences I have are with him, he’s made sure of that.
I move, as I’m told, and sit in the chair across from him, the heat of the night and between us giving my body a glistening glow of excitement. I can feel my cheeks burning, my heart pounding while the haze of the alcohol lingers.
Tiller looks at me, his hooded with desire, then to the bottle of Black Barrel he has between his legs.
“Fuck the bottle with your mouth,” he orders, gesturing to the bottle with a lazy nod.
I blink, confused. “Why?”
He gives me that look. The one that screams, why would you question me? “Because I asked you.”
I know I don’t have to do it. He may be demanding, but a part of me wants to. The part he’s corrupted over the years. The part that lives for the hooded desire in those dark eyes. Without too much encouragement needed, I lower my head between his legs until I feel the coolness of the bottle hit my burning lips. Opening my mouth, I slide the first inch between my lips.
“Fuck yeah.” His hand rises from his side, and he grabs a handful of my hair, giving me a gentle push. “Take as much as you can.”
I’ve never been so nervous around him and my eyes keep darting to everyone around me, waiting to see what they’re going to think. He tugs on my hair. “Don’t look at them. Only look at me.”
Oh my God, what is he doing to me? I wasn’t sure I even knew the me present. The pureness inside me had somehow become possessed by the mind of a devil with whiskey eyes and a torched soul.
Letting go of my hair, he takes hold of the bottle. I gag but recover. “You look good with your mouth full.”
I don’t say anything, what with a bottle in my mouth, but I smile around the neck of the bottle shoved down my throat. I honestly have to say, this is the weirdest thing I’ve done for him and that includes the time he stuck a sucker inside me so he could taste me. Don’t judge. I was eighteen and drunk.
“Are you imagining what my cock tastes like?” The tip it hits the back of my throat, and I want to gag again, but resist. Tears form at the corners of my eyes.
I feel dirty for doing this in front of all these people, but hearing him talk this way to me is way more erotic than it should be. It goes to show you how much I really desire this side of him. My beautiful sin.
Laughter draws my attention, a group of guys in the pool whistling and cheering. “Deep throat it!” they yell, taunting me.
“Shut the fuck up, motherfuckers.” His fingertips under my chin forces me to look at him. He tips the bottle up and gives me some of the liquid amber burn. I swallow. “Don’t look at them. The only cock that will ever be in your mouth is mine. Understand?”
I don’t have a chance to reply before he yanks the bottle from my mouth and captures my lips with his own. Eagerly, he shoves a hand beneath my dress. Higher on my thigh, he fists my panties at my hips and tugs. “Take these off, now,” he demands.
Without hesitation, I lean back, using my feet to push myself up on the edge of his chair. He removes my panties and tosses them on the ground at his bare feet. Are you shocked how far this is going? Don’t be. It’s normal.
Scooting me to the edge, I place my feet on either side of his hips. He sets the bottle on the table and then lifts me back onto his lap. Only this time his hand is between my legs.
I bite my lip, breathing heavily. He stares at me, pushing two fingers inside me. It’s not soft or easy—it’s everything he is. Unapologetic and hasty. Strong and bold and so certain he’ll have what he wants.
I squirm and shift, heat licking my face in waves. Trying so hard not to give away what’s happening, I fail. Helpless to what he does to me. I can’t believe I’m allowing him to do this, but I also can’t deny him because it feels so good.
“Give it to me. Come all over my fingers.” Leaning forward, his mouth finds mine, swallowing my moans. “I own these screams, too. Don’t ya fuckin’ forget it either.”
With my lips on his, he draws my bottom lip into his mouth, sucking, biting, just as my orgasm hits me, coursing through my body in a delicious wave. It spreads through me from my belly to my thighs. I grip his arm so tightly my nails make indentations in his bicep.
It takes me a breathy few seconds, or an entire minute, before my mind returns and I think and my first words are, “Oh my God,” I gasp, my cheek pressed to his warm ear.
Coming down from the high only he provides, I sink forward, my body sagging against his. His lips press against my shoulder. It’s oddly affectionate for him, but there’s a smug look of arrogance plastered on his face. And then he ruins the moment by looking over his shoulder and bringing his hand that was just inside me to his mouth and sucks my juices from his fingers, taunting the group of guys in the pool by saying, “Tastes good, fuckers. She’s mine.”
Embarrassed, I laugh into his neck. “You’re so gross.”
“My turn,” he says gruffly. His mouth meets the base of my throat and his tongue darts out, dragging up my overly heated skin. Burying his lips in my neck, kissing and biting, but never once do they make their way to my lips.
I swallow, nerves jumping in my throat. “What. . . do you want?”
“I want that tight virgin pussy,” he growls into my skin.
I swallow again. He knows I’m holding onto my virginity, and at times like this, I have no idea why. I’m too scared and he knows it. “Tiller, no. Please not here.”
He pulls back. “Why not?”
“I want it to be special.”
“Like what, candles?”
“No, just special.” My voice is weak, like my will. I want to give in, I really do, and I think he knows it.
“Jesus Christ.” Tiller sighs, annoyed. His jaw’s tight when he huffs out, “I don’t know what that means. Be specific.”
I knew Tiller’s had sex with other girls. And apparently with my sister too. It’s not like I’m naive about it. And while I wish I’m enough, I know I’m not enough for someone like him. I’m not sure I ever will be. But still, at these parties, I know what goes on and that he probably hooks up with whoever he wants and wherever he wants. I don’t want to be that girl. So while I mess around with him, I still can’t bring myself to go all the way.
His forehead hits my shoulder, grabbing at my thigh and trying to scoot me onto his lap. “Come on, why can’t we just do it?”
“I’m not ready.”
“When?” He’s impatient and probably horny. “There’s always an excuse with you.”
“There is not.” My anger when he constantly pressures me surfaces in a rush through my blood. I motion to the pool, where Scarlet and Shade are nearing sex, and Roan, in a lounge chair with a chick on her knees and I’m pretty sure she’s giving him a blow job. “Excuse me if I don’t want to have sex with your brothers watching or just be another girl you toss aside when you’re done.”
“They’re not. Look at them. They’re clearly busy,” he points out, ignoring the rest of my comment. Maybe on purpose.
I stand my ground, laughing at him. “I’m not doing it here.”
“Fine.” His brow raises, his eyes sleepy. “My room?”
“Tiller. No.”
He removes his hand from my thigh, running it through his hair. He leaves it sticking up at odd adorable angles. Bloodshot eyes find mine. “You’re being unreasonable.”
“I am not.” I cross my arms over my chest, but it does nothing for me because it pushes my breasts up and he notices right away, his eyes dropping. “You’re being a nightmare.”
Leaning forward, he bites my neck. Hard. “I am not. Take it back.”
Giggling, I push his head away, trying to squirm away from him. “No.”
“I bet I could make you.” Do you notice the warning? He’s about to do something incredibly stupid and we both know it.
Pointing my finger in his face, I glare, my warning going unnoticed. “Don’t even think about it Tiller.”
Picking up the bottle of Black Barrel, he takes a long pull from it and then sets it on the table, standing up. “Oh, I’m thinking about it.”
Do you see us there? We’re in the pool because his dumbass threw me in and I wouldn’t let go of him. Even with an arm in a sling, he supports my weight, dragging us to the deep end away from the others in the pool.
Trapping me against the side near the diving board and rocks, his hips press into mine. “Feel what you do to me. I want you.” His mouth finds my collarbone again, biting and sucking on my wet skin.
“I’m sure every girl here could get you hard,” I breathe out, lying my head back against the rocks and giving him full access to my skin.
“Not true,” he mumbles, reaching up under my dress between my legs again. Did I mention we’re both clothed? Well, kind of. He’s in shorts and I’m in my dress, still missing my panties. They’re over there by the table and the chairs he knocked over in the process of getting me inside the pool.
“Prove it,” I say, tempting him when I know I shouldn’t. He grinds himself into my center, bare for him. It’s then he lets go of me and reaches below the water. I keep my legs wrapped around him, my hands holding onto the rocks to keep us from sinking. He fumbles around, still kissing my neck and then I feel him there, at my opening.
I gasp. Shock hits me and I tighten my legs around his waist. My eyes, so heavy, find the smudged orange-black sky, blurry stars holding my stare, my body arching into him. “Tiller,” I warn, meaning it, but it feels so good I nearly tell him to push forward, finally take what’s been yours from the beginning.
Our eyes lock, his wild and determined, mine pleading and apprehensive.
He flexes forward but doesn’t push inside me. Instead, the head of him brushes over my swollen clit. “It’s you I want. Do you believe me now?” His mouth finds the curve of my neck, the warmth of the water and his lips making me shiver. My mind can’t comprehend much of anything but what he’s doing below the surface of the water. He gives me everything I need, new experiences, new thoughts, feelings, it’s all centered around him. “It’d be easy. To fuck you. Here.”
“But you won’t.” I know he’d never do anything I’m not ready for, but I’m uneasy under his dark eyes.
“I won’t,” he whispers, biting my earlobe. “But you’re getting me off at least.” He lets go of me, only to drag me toward the stairs. “Come with me.”
I do as he says, and he leads me to the side of the house, both of us dripping water and barefoot, to the only privacy around here which is in the bike shop. I can tell you all sorts of things about the shop, between the bikes, the exotic ones that are only prototypes, yet they’re designed specifically for the Sawyer brothers to show off. . . but none of that matters because it’s him and me in here, and you know why we came in here.
There are two guys in here talking about the race bikes, leaning against the wall drinking beers. I don’t know them, but they spot Tiller immediately. Their postures straighten and conversations halt. He gives a nod. They disappear without a word, and he backs me up against the wall, trapping me between a countertop and the air compressor.
He pushes his wet shorts down with his free hand and then takes my hand and places it on his swollen cock. I practically moan at the hardness in my hand. He shifts his feet apart, gaining balance and moves his hand to the back of my neck, latching his mouth on mine.
When that’s not enough for him, he drops his lips to my chest, pushing my dress down to capture my left breast in his mouth. I tip my head back against the wall, closing my eyes in the dim shop light.
It all happens fast, but the next thing I know, Tiller’s groaning and jerking his body toward mine. He shakes, taking a firm grip on himself and stroking fast. His chest trembles, his knees giving way a little. “Look what you do to me,” he pants out, barely able to get the words out through his harsh breathing.
He’s right. He could be outside this very moment with those sluts lingering around, but he’s not. He’s in the shadows with me.
I know when he comes, the soft heady grunts falling from his lips. Thick white bursts of cum covers my hand and my dress. He kisses me then, again, and while I kiss him back, I’m not at all sure what to make of what just happened.
“Someday you’re going to let me inside you,” he mumbles around my lips. “Only me.”
“I will, soon,” I admit, before I know what I’m saying, so caught up in the forbidden passion he consumes me with. He’s not heaven, he’s hell and he’s why I sin.
I’m not sure if he senses it, but things are changing for us. I know that much. I have no title, despite us joking about being boyfriend and girlfriend, and I might not ever have one with him, but our bond, our lifelong connection with one another is changing. A guy like him who does and says what he wants wouldn’t mess around with me for no reason. Something draws him to me. The lion falls for the lamb. The beast falls for the beauty.
The air changes, and I feel it. It’s in the confused expression of his brow and the way he steps back, running his hand over the back of his neck. He hesitates, as if he can’t decide what to say or do next.
Our eyes catch. For someone who’s normally so sure of himself, he’s so uncertain. He gestures to my dress, pulling his shorts up and reaches for a shop towel next to him. “Should we clean your dress?”
I nod, and peel it off. No bra, no panties, and yeah, so I’m completely naked.
Tiller scowls, dropping the towel next to my dress on the concrete floor, the instantiable hunger returning. “You’re mean.”
It’s enough that it breaks the awkwardness between us though and he smiles and leans in, his warm lips covering my hardened nipple. My hands move to his wet hair, tightening in the thick darkness. I have this craving. A hunger rooted deep inside me I can’t satisfy without him. It’s not a want, no, it’s something like a physiological craving.
It’s him.